


Q & A

by thiswasamistakeaaa



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Child Abuse, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, seriously please uhhh take care of yourselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:32:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiswasamistakeaaa/pseuds/thiswasamistakeaaa
Summary: “You always had a way with words, you know? That’s why I like you. You were made special for me,” he said.





	Q & A

**Author's Note:**

> This fic depicts a lot of Drake on Andrew violence, so if you aren't okay with it, please don't read. There is no /explicit/ rape, but the scene is still really graphic and intense. Please make sure you're taking care of yourself.

Andrew stopped moving after a few minutes of frantic struggling. His eyes grew hot and heavy, his mouth set, but tears never fell. Andrew had learned long ago that crying never solved anything; the bluish-purple constellations scattered across his skin only proved this. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he was frozen. He could swear that Drake would recoil at the touch of his frigid skin, but he only held on tighter. Drake’s face was one that he could never forget: Pure, unadulterated malice, laced up tight with a disgusting smile that peaked at one side like sloppy stitching. He always dreaded this moment. Drake’s hot breath felt like it was dripping across his face, his steadfast arms pinning Andrew to the bed. 

 

“Come on, AJ, Cass isn’t in town. Why not try to have a little fun while she’s gone?” The words oozed out of his mouth, slithering into Andrew’s ears and his head. He tried to shake them out, but Drake only laughed at him before reaching for his throat. “A perfect fit, made just for me, right?” His vision constricted as Drake gave a slight squeeze and Andrew could tell he was on the way to a panic attack. There was no way he would give Drake the satisfaction. He slowly closed his eyes, halfway hoping Drake would magically be gone when he opened them again. 

 

He didn’t realize he had been picked up until his head had slammed against the wood of the bed frame. He flailed, his leg twisting sharply upon landing. Absently, he noted that something was dripping down his face from where he had hit the frame, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. Andrew was face down upon the carpet, not bothering to pick himself up, when Drake stepped down to crouch above him. He carefully lowered himself, inch by inch, toward Andrew’s ear before whispering, “You know, I’m pretty sure questions are meant to be answered.” He grabbed a handful of Andrew’s hair and pulled him up to face him. “I’m not going to ask again, AJ.” 

 

“... Yes,” Andrew said. He was sure now that he was bleeding. Red had stained his vision and all he could taste was the slick metal dripping down his throat. 

 

Drake chuckled. “You always had a way with words, you know? That’s why I like you. You were made special for me,” he said, eyes fixed on the blood dripping from Andrew’s forehead. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. I bet most other people would get off on this too, though. A pretty boy covered in blood. Gonna cry for me again?” The silence from Andrew was almost palpable. “Of course not, you’re too stubborn for that. Never listen to a thing I say. I’m only trying to be a good big brother.” Drake feigned a pout, trying to draw some kind of emotion out of Andrew. He wasn’t sure what, though. 

 

His pout disappeared quickly, the edges of his mouth jerking upwards violently back to his grin. “Fine, you wanna play hardball? I’ll play too.” 

 

This time, his nose audibly crunched when it hit the carpet. Behind him, he could hear Drake tsking about how difficult it would be to get the stain out of the white carpet. He tried to focus on the drops of red slowly coloring his view. He could tell Drake was circling him, a vulture waiting for his prey to wither away. The calluses on Drake's hand scraped roughly against his skin as Drake pulled him back by his foot. Pain shot up his spine - he must have really twisted his leg in the fall - and the once-soft carpet chafed his bruised skin. He felt like wet tissue paper being wadded up, soon to be thrown away.

 

He was drawn up into Drake’s lap, his naked back flush against Drake’s still-clothed chest. Although he was glad Drake hadn’t taken off his clothes, every press of Drake’s t-shirt made his skin ache. Drake slid his hand up his chest and caressed his face, gathering the blood that had begun to pool onto Andrew’s neck and collarbones. He then jammed his fingers into Andrew’s mouth, startling him enough that he let out a squeak. 

 

“Fuck, there we go,” he could hear the smile in his voice, “see, that’s all I wanted. Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He rested his other hand on Andrew’s thigh, slowly inching it up as he said, “Hope you remember that little lesson. But remember, I’m never against reteaching if I have to. Now, what are we supposed to do if someone asks you a question?” He gripped the juncture between Andrew’s thigh and hip tightly. “Come on, don’t make me have to tell you again.”

 

“You respond,” came Andrew’s quick answer, low and quiet. He couldn’t tell what was blood and what were tears on his face anymore.

 

“Good boy. We’re gonna have some fun, AJ.”

 

 

 

When Andrew woke up, he startled at the body lying next to him in his bed. Drake had never stayed overnight; he was too paranoid that Cass would find him and he’d have to explain himself. Not like Cass would do anything, he thought grimly. 

 

The figure shifted slightly, his hand sprawled delicately across the sheets as he rolled over. ‘Delicate’ and ‘Drake’ could never be part of the same sentence, he’d kill it before the word was done being said. Andrew waved his hand over the nightstand before yanking the lamp cord, illuminating the room in harsh yellow glow. The figure shot up defensively before deflating and turning to Andrew. 

 

“Andrew, what’s going on?” the man said groggily. His hand was pressed against his face, attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes to no avail. Andrew kept his eyes trained on the man’s face. His mouth was much too full to be Drake’s, eyes too wide and bright, his nose slightly crooked where a straight one should be. 

 

“Neil,” he said, feeling out the word in his mouth. It felt like salvation and damnation at the same time. Neil looked up at the sound of his name, his eyes searching for something in Andrew’s face. 

 

“Yeah, Andrew?” 

 

“Thought I heard something. Go back to bed,” he said, shutting off the light and his stupid thoughts. He could feel Neil’s gaze upon him for a few minutes before he lied back down and fell asleep. His rhythmic breathing set Andrew’s mind to something resembling ease. 

 

Nothing was perfect. Magic wasn’t real. Neil, though. Neil, at least, was. 

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this started as a vent write and then I decided to actually put some effort into it.  
> What can I say, I live for angst. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
